


Just Got Fired

by pine67



Series: Paying Rent [1]
Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Drunk Derek, Drunk Sex, Food Play, M/M, Smut, Stripper Stiles, more smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-21
Updated: 2014-12-21
Packaged: 2018-03-02 16:37:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,063
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2818934
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/pine67/pseuds/pine67
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles then glues himself down to Derek. Really, their chests are glued together because of the ice cream stickiness and it distracts Derek to no end. </p><p>“Dude, stop fidgeting, I’m trying to make out with you.”</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just Got Fired

**Author's Note:**

> This is actually part of a longer story I'm writing but seeing as my fingers slipped and wrote too much angst into it, I decided to split them up and post this as a prequel. It's also possible for them to be read individually, if you prefer smut or angst over the other.  
> Enjoy!

Friday was a very shit day and Derek just wants to sit at the bar in the local club and bang his head on the counter a couple hundred times until life just moves on _._

He’s not one for huge dance scenes, of course. He’s not here for the strippers or the booze, this is just the only place where he doesn’t ‘accidentally’ bump into anyone he knows. It’s pathetic, really. He’s escaped to a place where people shamelessly grind their bodies against each other as if becoming a giant mass of hundreds of limbs groping each other… it’s sad that he’d rather face the immediate consequences of unwanted flirtatious looks than deal with his life.

By the time Derek can finally breathe without feeling as if a truckload of stress was sitting on his chest, he has turned away from the bar, finally taking a look around. _Everybody just looks so high and desperate, why the fuck are they wasting their lives here?_ But then again, he’s here too.

Along all the walls are cages held up high above the dance floor in which strippers were dancing in a wild yet calculated manner, as the crowd jumps around on the sidelines and encourages them. To be honest, even the professional dancers were acting quite desperate and didn’t appear to be as sexy as they thought they were.

 _Especially_ this gangly looking guy. The one covered in _nothing_ but a pair of extremely tight black boxer briefs, so tight that Derek’s dick was wincing in pain for the poor little one that must be suffocating in there. The boy does stand out from the other dancers though, jumping around more than others and allowing every single eager hand to roam freely across his body. It seems like he’s wanted just a little more than the others.

Derek squints hard trying to figure out why.

As the song ends, Derek watches as the kid makes his way out of the mini platform and down the stairs, ignoring the many pleas from the crowd asking him for another song or five more minutes of dancing. A smirk is plastered on his face as he walks, _knowing_ that he’s wanted; knowing that the whole fucking club screams the loudest for him and no other dancer. But _why?_

Damn. As he gets closer to Derek the crowd thins and Derek gets a clearer view and he sees more of his _ass-_ ets. Derek giggles into his drink as the kid makes his way around a corner and into a hallway where a very much larger man in a suit stands; stiff, calm, and collected compared to the many other people in the room. From Derek’s seat at the back of the club he can see easily into the hallway that the almost naked body doesn’t waste much time in getting the other man pressed up against the wall. They’re too far for clear inspection, but he can tell that one definitely seems more eager than the other.

The suited guy opens a black door – which blends effortlessly with the black walls so Derek didn’t really get a chance to be disappointed that his eye candy is leaving – and drags them both in.

~~~

Derek is shitfaced and waiting for another drink when he hears faint yelling. He looks over to find that the black door is wide open. The two men from before are yelling at one another; hatred, disgust and frustration clear in their motions as they push and pull at each other.

The shorter guy huffs and puffs in a very cute manner and stomps away from the crime scene, Derek wants to nibble on his red stained cheeks and – wow, okay, _seems like the drinks are kicking in_.

Still-almost-naked-guy walks up to the bar and sits on the stool right beside Derek’s, spitting an order as if the bartender had personally offended him and ruined his night. Derek squints a little and he swears he sees smoke around his ears. But he’s still kind of amazed at the fact that the angry red colour on his face doesn’t even stop at his neck, it continues over his shoulders and down his back. It’s almost like a maze, the way his moles lead to one another and _the dimples above his ass, damn someone can eat soup out of those._ That can’t be natural. It must be because his ass is falling off the stool and the rim is pushing his cheeks –

His back straightens and the dimples flatten out as he sits up. He turns towards Derek, who is so confused by the direction his thoughts have headed, he almost swallows his tongue trying to voice an apology.

“See something you like?”

“I uh- yea uh- I mean _no_ … but yea… sorry.” Derek turns back and drops his head quickly enough to smash his head on his cup. His throat is clogged up and his eyes feel too dry to blink so he just sits there and inspects the stains on the wooden counter.

When the corner of his eye catches a movement he looks before his brain can make a decision to stop himself. The kid has both his hands braced on the stool between his parting thighs as he shuffles until his ass literally falls off the edge of his seat. _Literally two cheeks just FALL off, what the hell?_

Derek’s body doesn’t hesitate before leaning back not so subtly in order to get a better view, groaningbecause if it wasn’t for the underwear – _never mind, the underwear does nothing. Absolutely nothing._ It seems impossible at first but his eyes travel higher, over a painfully looking arched back. The kid has his head thrown back over his shoulder, throwing Derek a bright smile. It’s not even seductive, he’s just _enjoying this, the little shit._

“Don't worry,” He stands up and presses his lower stomach against Derek’s thigh, lifting his head so that he can easily look into Derek’s eyes and deeper into his soul. At least that’s what it feels like. “Look around you, we're at a strip club, if you weren't allowed to oogle the goods here then I don't know where else you’d go if you're into that kind of stuff.”

Derek chokes – he doesn’t come here for oogling ass, goddamn it, he’s not a fucking stereotype. “Uhm- I wasn't-”

“Oh, come on.” He bats his eyelashes and pouts his lips, “I’d be offended if you _weren’t_ checking me out.” He trails his fingers up and down Derek’s limp forearm, “In fact, from a guy like you, I encourage it very much.” He grabs Derek’s hand quite purposefully and leans closer as he puts it on his ass. He has a very confusing passive look on his face that Derek doesn’t really understand, and he seems to only let go of Derek’s hand when he’s sure it’ll stay.  

Derek has an extremely hot nearly naked perfectly tanned and toned _dancer in his embrace_ – who happens to have already sent some sort of message of consent through his lustful actions – so it really shouldn't take him by surprise when hands rush up into the air and grab Derek’s neck roughly, pulling them together for their lips to meet… but it does.

Holy mother of fucking Jesus it _does_ take him by surprise, but his lips part involuntarily and they’re already panting in each other’s mouths – _both open desperately wide as they literally swallow each other’s tongues, seriously how does it even feel this good?_ But then, instinctively, Derek’s hands tighten their grips and now he has a nice hand full of a plump ass cheek that fits into his hand perfectly. That must be a trigger or something for this guy because he suddenly moans and leaps up on his toes in order to wrap two arms around Derek’s neck. His fingers don't stray far as they play with his hair, tugging with no restraint. That is _Derek’s_ trigger and suddenly he’s not frozen or stiff anymore. He uses his hands as leverage to bring him in close and – hard as it may seem – he moves around his stool strategically so that he could spread his knees apart and pull him in closer, the fact that he fits in like a glove isn't overlooked.

When Derek needs to take a breath he pulls away and turns his head to the side, gasping for air. The dancer in his arms seems like an expert though because he continues to lick and nip down Derek’s neck. Derek spews random words until he finally says what’s on his mind, “Wait… Isn't there a rule...or-” he doesn’t even know what he’s trying to say but his hands seem to think it's time to push away already.

“Hmm? A rule for what?” lips tickle his neck with the mumbles.  

Derek is so thankful for his brain deciding to do the right thing, because his body was a hormone driven goner. “Against this – against making out with customers in the middle of a club – oh fuck do that again.” there's a lump in the pit of his stomach forming rapidly as a talented mouth worships his Adam's apple. It's confirmed that this kid is an expert at this because he's found Derek’s soft spot with so much ease – he nips at it with more vigour now that Derek’s reacting so blatantly.

He pulls back eventually and laughs, “Not when I just got fired for exactly that.”

“Oh…” Derek’s eyes drift to the hallway he came from, trying to piece everything together because he was just dancing like all the other dancers that worked for the club… but someone must have fired him in that room. Derek doesn’t have much time to think it over though because they lean into each other and go at it for what seems like another hour.

By the time Derek becomes aware of the outside world, he’s the one standing and he’s got the kid sitting on the counter with his legs wrapped tightly around him. The hands that have been roaming under his shirt for a while now have started to tug at his pants eagerly.

Derek pulls their lips apart with a pop, “Wait–”

“Stiles.”

“Wha…?”

“My name, Stiles.” He smiles as if they’re meeting for the first time and he’s hesitant. Well they are, but… it’s definitely out of place at this point.

“Oh. Hi. M’name’s Der’k,” Derek frowns at what’s falling out of his mouth, may be he’s drunker than he thought.

“Derek? Don’t worry I get it. You’re drunk on lust,” Stiles smirks and pulls him closer by the neck. “Let’s keep it that way.”

But the realisation has Derek using his brain again, and he seems to be stiffening up more by the minute. He _definitely knows better_ than to have sex – clothed or not – with someone in public. No, not even in public, in a fucking club. Or worse yet, if Stiles tried to pick Derek up and take him home, what would he do? He doesn’t have much experience dealing with stuff like this. His plans for tonight were just to get shitfaced and listen to loud tasteless music that will have him crying in the morning.

Derek halts because his sister’s voice suddenly screams in his head. _You pathetic little shit, this is the first time you hook up with a stranger in forever, and you’re fucking complaining about it?_

Stiles notices Derek’s distraction and decided to get his attention back by grabbing his half-hard cock through his jeans. Derek’s eyes open wide in surprise. He pushes back and complies when Stiles moves him for better access, but he holds Stiles’ hand when he tries to undo his pants. “I can’t… Uh… Who… I mean I don’t know- what the _fuck_ is going on _?_ ”

Stiles doesn’t stop, he just slows down and pops Derek’s button as he holds his gaze.

“Tell me you want me to stop.” He looks up– if he was standing any closer Derek would go cross eyed just to look at him. “I dare you.”

“I…” He pushes his hand inside and runs his fingers up and down on Derek’s raging bulge. Derek’s eyes flutter uncontrollably. “Stop… Don’t- ah fuck- please…”

“Please what?”

“Don’t stop- ugh don’t stop please.” his hips instinctively buck forward into his grip.

A coy smile plays across Stiles’ lips as he increases the pressure on Derek’s cock now that he had voiced his consent.

A rush of guilty pleasure runs through Derek and this time he leans down to initiate a kiss. While his hands are reserved to clutching Stiles’ shoulders and neck tightly, Stiles has one working his cock through his briefs and one already up Derek’s backside under his shirt.

When they’re breathless once again, Derek pulls back and nips his way down Stiles’ neck. He tilts his head to give him easier access and starts panting.

“So… So, you a top or a bottom?”

Surprised at the blunt question, Derek almost chokes as he pulls back. He may or may not have heard him correctly so he looks at him questioningly. “I’m sorry?”

“Are you a top…?” Stiles emphasizes his question by gripping Derek’s dick harder through his pants, “Or a bottom…?” He trails his other hand down his back and into the loose hem of his pants, grabbing what he can of his ass.

Stiles is being extremely forward and kind of pushy but he still has Derek breathless from the kisses and he’s standing so close that Derek’s forced to breathe him in with every pant. Derek doesn’t think he’d ever been this intimate with someone.

“Come on hot stuff, make up your mind before the night ends.”

Is Derek a top or a bottom? He’s not really sure. He never really thinks about it… Whenever he’s with a guy he just does whatever comes naturally, whatever feels _right_ at the time. _Wow it never felt this cheesy before._  

He stutters, not really knowing how to voice his thoughts. Stiles has stopped all his ministrations, looking at Derek expectantly and – _his cockiness is actually annoying the fuck out of Derek._ “What makes you think we’re… we’re going to go that far anyways?”

He scoffs. “You could play hard to get, but I still know you came here alone tonight. Otherwise, whoever you were with would have come to find you by now. Correct me if I’m wrong…?” when Derek doesn’t respond, Stiles smiles knowingly. “Also, I don’t really care if you came here looking for hooking up or not, all I care about is we found each other. We’re both up for some fun… Unless you’re actually this super-dork who thinks he can conquer the world by putting up a facade but when it really comes down to it, you’re scared of anything that could invade your little weak shell you’ve built up and you’ll be left defenseless, which – some people romanticize that scenario for some reason but I personally think it’s _revolting…_ ” He frowns and shakes his head, leaving it hanging as if questioningly, so Derek tries to shake his head or say no but all he can do is bite his bottom lip and blink hard because his eyes are starting to glaze over with more and more want the more he looks at Stiles’ lips, bright red and so full that they’re lopsided. “…so why are you resisting?”

“I… cuz…”

“It’s Friday. I doubt you have work tomorrow, so there’s that excuse.”

Remembering that he’d come here straight from work – from the hell that is his boss’s office, to be exact – Derek realizes that he really did need to treat himself to some fun. He doesn’t care about some stupid project that he needs to start working on as soon as fucking possible; he’s going to have fun – _he’s going to have sex._

Jesus, when was the last time he got laid with a guy who wasn’t a boyfriend with which he had to fuck out of mere courtesy? Probably never.

Stiles doesn’t let Derek dwell on anything more as he leans in to kiss him again, essentially reminding him of the intense sexual rush he could provide with a simple touch to the lips and a hint as to what is to come later in the night. “I think my roommates are probably already at it like rabbits back at our place, so maybe we can head to your place… that is if no one’s already there…?”

“Uh… Yea… no I mean, my place is good. I have a roommate but he’s hardly ever home on weekend nights…”

“Great!” Stiles pats Derek’s cheek, like a mother would, and does the opposite of what they were planning. He runs off to the back of the club. Derek watches his ass bop up and down and then it makes sense, he’s gone to get some clothes his shivering little body. Derek is about to sit down and take those two seconds to collect himself and all his wandering thoughts before Stiles is already back, hopping uncoordinatedly as he puts on a pair of sneakers. “You ready?”

It doesn’t seem to bother him that he’s nearly naked so Derek shrugs and Stiles motions for him to lead the way.  

They walk towards the front of the club, shoulders bumping together and into other people – yea who knew there was a world outside of their small little bubble that Derek didn’t even notice was forming – as if they want to be close but they don’t know how to be in pace with each other. Once they’re outside, Stiles smacks the bouncer’s ass and calls out, “I just got fired.” He laughs hysterically, “Now you never have to see me again, asshole!” He continues laughing as he skips away, Derek awkwardly at his side doing nothing except for pointing to the parking lot on the left in the direction of his car.

Now that they’re out in the open Derek doesn’t have the same urge to reach out and grab Stiles as he did before. He feels like he should, but something about the kid not offering his body anymore and just completely ignoring him as he mumbles jokes to himself and laughs like a lunatic, puts Derek off.

They get into the car and Derek just drives with his mind out of his body. He realises when he makes a turn that he’s probably not sober enough to drive. Too late. Good thing he lives six minutes away. Besides, driving is like breathing for Derek, if he couldn’t do it in his sleep then he would give up on everything else.

The next five awkward minutes are of Derek thinking to himself _this is why I don’t do this. This is why I shoot death glares at people who throw even the littlest looks of interest._ Because obviously if he doesn’t then they’d throw themselves all over him and ask to visit his home.

He’s such an idiot.

There’s also the possibility that Stiles is the outlier and the only one who would voluntarily cross the streets of a city almost naked in order to have sex with a very grumpy looking guy in a messed up dress shirt and suit pants. May be.

Derek wastes time parking in the underground of his building because he fears what’s about to happen. Stiles has so far been unpredictable and blunt. Whatever happens from now on, Derek probably won’t have control over it. That’s where his fear stems from.

The ride up the elevator is equally too long and too short.

The second they’re in the door, Stiles goes off. “So, what sort of things d’you have?”

“Things?” Derek closes the door and dumps his keys quickly in order to follow Stiles inside.

“Dildos or Vibrators?”

“Oh, no…”

“Anal beads? Butt plugs?”

“Nope.”

He turns to look at him suspiciously “Seriously? Are you even gay?”

“Actually, I’m –”

“Doesn’t matter. These things are essential in every gay’s life.”

They reach Derek’s room, Stiles leading the way. Derek follows him even though he’s starting to get on his nerves.

Derek doesn’t make it further than the door. Stiles motions him something like _have a seat on the bed_ but Derek ignores it because Stiles is going through his drawers. _What the fuck is up with this kid?_ He crosses his arms across his chest. Protecting himself from Stiles’ prying hands.

Stiles finds lube immediately, but he keeps searching. Probably looking for some sex toys, but he sure as hell won’t find any. He looks satisfied though when he pulls out a strip of condoms from Derek’s bedside table. “Extra-large?” He literally squawks with laughter. “That’s the least I would have guessed.” He winks at Derek, who is not the least bit flattered, just mortified and itchy for another drink.

Deeper in the drawer is a pair of handcuffs that Derek just remembered were in there and he prays to god Stiles doesn’t –

“Oh!” he’s shaking them around in victory when Derek opens his eyes. “So you do have some experience.”

“That’s the only thing I’ve got. My ex-boyfriend left it behind and I never bothered to get rid of it.”

He throws the items on the bed then grabs Derek and tries to do the same. But Derek holds his ground and Stiles looks up, shocked, curious and excited. “Is your kitchen stocked up?”

Stiles leaves the room without an answer. “It’s to your left!” Derek calls out because he doesn’t want stiles to ‘accidentally’ do more snooping around if he goes in the wrong direction.

Derek hears cupboards and drawers slam open and closed. He can’t really tell what Stiles is up to but thankfully he doesn’t take too long, walking back into the bedroom holding a tub of ice cream and a bottle of chocolate syrup.

Stiles sets the stuff on the bedside table and kicks his shoes off. Derek wants to ask what he’s planning on doing with them but he just sighs and finally allows himself to be pulled into bed with him. If this is how it’s done, then this is how it’s done.

Stiles tries to pull Derek’s shirt off but the neck gets stuck around his ear and his arms are both still half inside. “Just-”

“Stiles, stop.”

“Just hold still – but move your arm like this, Derek no, no this way–” Derek can’t fucking see anything.

“Fuck – just let me do it.”

Stiles clicks his tongue in mock concentration as he pulls and tugs unnecessarily.

“STILES.”

Stiles pulls back and starts laughing, Derek grunts and can finally pull his shirt. Stiles reaches for the jeans but Derek rolls away and takes those off by himself too.

“Okay listen. This is getting really weird, really fast. The alcohol is probably draining off inside me as we speak so consider this is your warning. I’m a hundred percent more irritable when I’m sober so you need to stop with your crazy childish bullshit and just start making out with me like a normal person before I kick you out. Deal?” Derek takes a deep breath to calm himself and looks up to see Stiles’ reaction.

A wide eyed Stiles’ jaw drops slowly and he just stares at Derek in surprise. But he doesn’t say anything.

“What?”

“Nothing. It’s just- you’re just _finally_ turning me on.”

Derek scoffs, genuinely offended. “What do you mean finally? Then why are you even h–” he’s cut off when Stiles crawls forward and frames Derek’s legs with his own. He uses both hands to grab Derek’s neck and lean in for a kiss and Derek’s hands crawl down his chest, grabbing and staying idle at his waist. Stiles moves their lips together hungrily as he nudges forward enough for Derek to lean back on the headboard.

It’s not different from their time at the club, but it’s also not the same. At the club there were blinding lights and deafening music that crowded all his senses. But now all he can do is focus on the rush. Not even just the feel of lips on his own or that Stiles is laying on top of him, but the warmth that comes with two people so close in every single way, and the rush that’s forming in the pit of his stomach in the suddenly too quiet room. It’s all overwhelming to the point that Derek almost wants to give up all cognitive thought and just let Stiles do whatever he wants.

Derek decides he’ll start there and see where it goes.

After Stiles has had his fill of Derek’s lips, he stares them down and pecks them as in ‘ _I’ll see you guys later_ ’ and moves down and along his neck. He doesn’t waste much time on his chest before he shimmies them both down the bed until Derek lays on his back and Stiles is face to crotch. Derek doesn’t remember if he trimmed his pubes lately. He really can’t stand non-tidy jungles but may be stiles won’t mind.

He’s pulling blindly on Derek’s underwear as he nips and licks at his happy trail. Judging by how frantically he pulls them down and tosses them across the room, Derek concludes he’s pretty eager for this. It’s confirmed when he immediately greets Derek’s hard dick with an eager tongue and a high pitched moan that actually impresses Derek. He doesn’t stop there though, he opens his mouth further and takes as much of Derek in as possible.

Derek realizes that the whines he’s hearing are his own, and it’s not very sexy of him. He closes his mouth and throws his head back, just to let himself _feel_. One of his hands wander across his own chest and the other plays with Stiles’ hair.

But for some reason Stiles snaps out of his task and looks annoyed, “Dude your dick is so nice, it’s distracting.”

Derek rolls his eyes. He honestly doesn’t even want to know what he means by that. “Well if you could just- FUCK-OW- Mother of...” Derek lifts his head to look down only to find Stiles holding a spoon and hovering it over Derek’s lower belly where the patch of hair begins. There’s a puddle of ice cream visibly melting as Derek shivers. “What the hell?”

“What? You’ll like it, trust me, just be patient.”

“Not even a warning?” He asks, but then he doesn’t care anymore because _oh._

Stiles still has a grip on Derek’s dick but his focus is directed at licking off all the ice cream with that _hot as fuck tongue of his_. Once he gets every last bit, he settles on one spot where he nips and suckles as if his life depended on it. Derek honestly doesn’t know how but Stiles’ mouth is suddenly scorching hot and it feels so good in contrast to his ice cold skin.

Sitting up, Stiles grabs the handcuffs and straddles Derek’s upper chest as he reaches for his arms.

“Uhm, wait I don’t…”

Stiles just looks down at him questioningly, apparently feeling Derek’s sudden tension because he lowers the handcuffs to his lap and waits for a response. That’s probably the closest he’ll get to asking for consent, and Derek _doesn’t_ _not_ want to do it, so he just takes three deep breaths and offers up his hands.

With a proud smile, Stiles takes them and handcuffs Derek to the headboard of his bed.

He sees Stiles reach for the tub again and tilts his head back, closing his eyes like before, because if the surprise of the ice cream falling for the first time felt good, then so what?

For the next however long, Derek moans uncontrollably, and spews gibberish thanks to god as Stiles continues up his chest with more ice cream. Derek is sure it’s all falling both ways down the side of his chest but all he cares about is Stiles’ expert mouth as it worships every last square inch until he reaches Derek’s nipples.

Derek isn’t sure if he wants ice cream _there_ but before he can voice any concerns, he feels something else dripping all over his pecs. Stiles moans louder at this point, and the fact that he’s enjoying this as much as he is just makes it all that much better.

With every minute, Derek’s breaths become even more labored and finally, Stiles lets up and suddenly he’s kissing Derek on the lips and he tastes very strongly of chocolate syrup. He continues to dominate as he moves the ice cream and syrup bottle to the bedside table with a strange amount of coordination. He then glues himself down to Derek. Really, their chests are glued together because of the ice cream stickiness and it distracts Derek to no end.

“Dude, stop fidgeting, I’m trying to make out with you.”

“It’s sticky as fuck, ugh, get off.”

“No.”

“How could something that felt so good ten seconds ago, feel so gross?”

“You’re just being a baby.” Stiles says as he reaches back for Derek’s dick which is still fully hard. “Doesn’t look like you’re grossed out anyway.”

Stiles disappears for a second and Derek is glad he opened his eyes to check why because Stiles is shimmying out of that skimpy ass underwear. He licks his lips as a delicious cock pops out and says hello. _Fuck_ it’s already leaking precum and Derek doesn’t even realize he’s struggling with his handcuffs until Stiles leans over beside him – in a way that keeps his cock as far away as possible and that’s just not fair – and massages up and down Derek’s arms.

“Relax. We have all night to do whatever you want. Do you want me to take off the cuffs right now?” Stiles is calm and comforting for some reason, and Derek doesn’t know what to do with it.

“No?” It comes off as a question because he honestly didn’t know if Stiles intended it as a trick question or not. But either way, he needed to man up and not look like a sore loser who was forced to be tied up to a bed. He needed to look like a manly man who was tied up to a bed willingly. Derek clears his throat and says more firmly, “No.” He makes a show of shuffling his body as if getting comfortable between the pillows and now messed up covers beneath him. “Just hurry up.”

Derek is finally able to feel Stiles when he straddles his hips and grinds himself and Derek right along each other. After teasing them for long enough, he grabs them both in his hand and starts to move it slowly.

They both groan because it’s a dry grip, “Where the fuck did you put the lube?”

Stiles’ head is thrown back and he shrugs, “I don’t know, somewhere on the bed.”

“Well, my hands are preoccupied at the moment…”

“Oh… right.” He tries to use his free hand to shuffle around in the covers but nothing comes up. So he reluctantly let’s go of their dicks and stretches all over the bed in search for the lube. When he’s back, he eagerly pours some – a lot – into his hands and finally takes hold of them in a tight hold again.

“OH FUCK,”

“UGHFFUUH!”

They both groan out loud and Derek actually gets light headed with how _good_ it feels. He feels exposed but no longer vulnerable, as if his body has gotten used to having no arms and starting to take control in other ways. Once his hips voluntarily start to fuck into Stiles’ fist, he can’t stop. He shifts and rolls in non-even motions because he’s trying to hard not to finish too early. Stiles is also thrusting hard, his lips moving in circular motions that do something spectacular because Derek is suddenly pulled to the edge faster than he’s ever been before.

“Fuck, stop. I wanna fuck you.”

“Oh my god, same here, please.” Stiles says, but it takes him a while to stop his actions and focus on another task. Finally, he shifts and his hands travel behind him to work at opening himself up. Derek wants to watch, but knowing the fact that Stiles’ hand had literally brought him to the edge, seeing him prepare himself would have sent him over it and everything would have ended very quickly.

By the time Stiles smiles and grabs Derek’s dick again – alone this time – Derek had taken his few breaths of preparation and is now ready.

Aligning himself on top of Derek is the only thing Stiles does. He strokes Derek’s still very much hard cock against his cheeks and then along his hole as they both moan, Stiles in anticipation and Derek in frustration.

“Stop- fucking- teasing.” Derek spits out. His hips trying to reach Stiles but failing.

“No, I like how your abs are flexing.” He moans. The hand that he was using to support himself on the mattress now shifts so that it’s clawing at Derek’s abdomen. It hurts in a very good way that Derek doesn’t even understand.

Not too long after, Stiles is done playing around. A look of determination crosses his face – Derek knows because he isn’t flinging his head anymore, he’s staring with eyes wide open, not wanting to miss anything. However, instead of pushing Derek inside, Stiles leans up and spins around before Derek can protest.

He’s on his hands and knees facing away from Derek. He reaches back and aligns themselves once again, and from this view, Derek could see everything. _Everything._ Stiles’ full cheeks and pretty little hole are literally on display and _it’s so fucking perfect_.

Suddenly he pushes back and slides effortlessly onto Derek and, “Holy FUCKING Jesus, Stiles, Fuck-”

He makes it all the way down Derek’s still cock surprisingly fast, then sits up and arches his back with so much grace that Derek now sees why he was such a great dancer at the club. He looks over his shoulder and smirks at all the noises he’s hearing from Derek, “like what you see?”

“YES! Oh Fuck, yes! Ugh, look at you- I can’t even- you just- uuuunghhhmmmm.” He has to bite his lips before he admits he’s in love with Stiles.

“Yea, I know.” He smirks, and starts moving.

“UghhhHH-” Derek’s abs are no longer just flexing, they are rock hard because tension holds Derek’s entire body as he tries his best not to cum prematurely.

Stiles spends a little time slowly riding Derek that way, then gradually increasing his speed. His moans also get louder and louder and soon enough, his screams are filling the room right along with Derek’s.

After a while, Derek feels Stiles shifting and he curses himself for having closed his eyes at some point. He looks up to see Stiles staying on top, but shifting his legs so that his feet are planted firmly on the outsides of Derek’s knees, and then leaning his entire torso backward so that it’s parallel to Derek’s.

By some miracle, they’re Derek hasn’t slipped out and Stiles starts rolling his hips again and continuing his litany of curse words. He moves his left arm to the right side of Derek’s head and starts whispering in his ear. “Come on. Fuck me hard, tiger. I know you’ve got it in you.”

Derek has no fucking clue what he meant or how this position works because he’s never tried it before, but he tests the water, thrusting up and into the general angle that Stiles seems to be liking.

Stiles groans but doesn’t move, the control is now all with Derek, he realizes, because Stiles’ entire effort is put into maintaining the new position he seems to like.

Derek continues thrusting, quicker and quicker to match the rhythm of Stiles right hand working on his own cock. Derek can see it’s already leaking against his belly. It looks delicious and Derek can’t believe he hadn’t even tried to get a taste of it tonight. It makes his thrusts even harsher and Stiles screams extremely loud as his body shudders and then stills. Derek can feel it before he can see it, the tightness and then the stream of cum that shoots all the way up to Stiles’ shoulder. If Derek wasn’t so close to reaching the same point, he would want to stop and take a picture.

But, as it is, Derek can’t make any more moves, “Fuck, ugh, I’m so close.” Stiles takes that as some sort of hint because he moves the tiniest bit and starts whispering into Derek’s ear again. He runs his fingers through the cum on his chest and without warning, smears it all over Derek’s lips. Derek fucking EXPLODES while he’s inside stiles and it doesn’t even stop. As he licks and sucks on Stiles’ fingers, his hips keep involuntarily jerking even when his load is all out. It feels like Stiles’ ass literally ripped the orgasm out of him and he can’t _fucking move._

Much long ago Stiles had released all of his weight onto Derek, and just now Derek was starting to feel how heavy he was. He starts coughing and Stiles takes that cue to fall off him and onto the pillow, reaching over to untie the handcuffs that Derek had forgotten about.

“Wow, just, wow.” Stiles says. “That was…”

Derek can’t even breathe, let alone speak. “Mhmm…”

“That was the best fucking I’ve had in a long fucking time! Dude- your body- I don’t even- I can worship you all day every day and I would never even get tired. Fuck.” Then he goes quiet, either at a loss of words, or just completely wiped out.

They’re still panting heavily even ten minutes after they roll away from each other. This is the only time Derek’s large ass bed is put to good use and he’s glad because now that he’s relatively further from Stiles, he can get his breathing evened out.

Stiles keeps trying to say something to break the silence, murmuring little nothings like, “So…” and then gesturing with hands without continuing. Sometimes says more, “I mean that was just…” but then his arms just fall and bounce on the mattress on either side of him.

Derek wants badly to tune him out, but he has a stranger in his bed that he can’t fall asleep on, as well as other fluids that- _no. He cannot fall asleep like this._ He hops out of bed before he changes his mind, and makes his way to the bathroom.

Stiles lets out a questioning hum but there’s a lump in Derek’s throat so he doesn’t acknowledge him.

A quick forty second water-only shower later, Derek is drying himself off, glad to not be a walking melted popsicle anymore. After he puts on some pants, he brushes his teeth slowly and even takes a leak. So what if he’s stalling? He walks back into his room and Stiles is pacing, naked. “Bathroom’s all yours. I pulled out a new tooth brush and a towel for you, so...”

“Thanks,” is all he gets as Stiles walks by, ducking his head and scratching the back of his neck like he’s trying to hide from Derek’s gaze. 

He wasn’t sure how long Stiles was going to take in there, but Derek needed to face the crime scene clean up tonight before it becomes a graveyard by tomorrow morning. He throws the almost empty ice cream tub in the trash and puts the chocolate syrup back in its place. When he throws the covers off his bed, he literally gags because the smell of sex is _not_ sexy. Whoever sexualized it, seriously? Not to mention the sheets are actually, quite literally, sticking to the mattress. Derek curses Stiles for his twisted ways as he carries the new pile of laundry to the laundry room.

After fresh sheets are sloppily tucked in, Derek falls to the bed and let’s out all the worried breaths he’s been holding back. This is going to be fine. It’s fine. It’s almost over and the worst of it has past. Well the worst was also the _best thing to ever happen to him_ but, isn’t that what one night stands are all about?

The bedside alarm clock says it’s almost three in the morning and Derek knows better than to let anyone walk home this late. But before he can rehearse something to say, Stiles walks with a towel wrapped around his waist and an anxious look on his face. It sort of relaxes Derek a little to know that Stiles isn’t the one in control anymore.

“So uh, I know we just met and stuff, but uh, you know-” Stiles fails and Derek just huffs as he walks over to his closet and grabs a clean pair of sweat pants. He walks back and thrusts them in offering. “Oh, okay, thanks.”

Derek walks away before he can see anything and gets into his side of the bed. Stiles literally jumps in next to him, and Derek struggles to get him _under_ the covers. They twist and turn and Derek feels like he’s tucking a child into bed.

Once they’ve settled in and there’s minimal movement, “You sure you’re fine with me staying the night?” Stiles whispers – half way breaking into a yawn.

“Yea, of course,” Derek fluffs his pillow for the sake of doing something to break the silence because he doesn’t really know what to do. Whether Stiles is into cuddling or spooning. But then Stiles rolls over to face Derek and settles an arm around his belly. They both relax a little after that, Derek looking over only to find that Stiles has still got those wide eyes and is staring off into the distance, as if he’s not even considering sleep at that moment. “What are you thinking about?”

He doesn’t answer immediately so Derek assumes it’s something private. He fidgets a little more because he’s honestly not used to sleeping with someone else, and he didn’t think it would be _this weird_ when he’d offered it to Stiles.  

A few minutes later, as if it’s an afterthought or an ending of a debate he’s running through his head, "I'm just hoping that tomorrow I'll wake up and not regret this."

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! *Sending a kiss from Derek your way*  
> Leave a comment or come say hi at hoechlinstick.tumblr.com !


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